“Cynwrig, we’re about to have company.”

“How many?”

“Three approaching the front of the house, and another two in the park.”

My gaze jumped to the window. The curtains were drawn, which at least meant they wouldn’t see us. Of course, if we were dealing with shifters rather than humans, curtains wouldn’t really matter, as a wolf’s nose was so sensitive it would have no trouble scenting us through these thick old walls.

“Then we need to get moving. Grab your things, then see if you can open the other window. I’ll arrange that greeting for them.”

“What about our coats and boots?”

“No time.”

I spun around, scooped up my backpack, then placed my knives and the codex into it. The book didn’t react to my touch, and the light had faded from the knives, but the Eye—which I hadn’t placed back in the silk bag—continued to pulse in time to my heart. Was it the link? The bridge between me, the knives, and the codex? And was the Triune coming back online the reason the Eye hadn’t activated my second sight despite the fact it was pressed against skin?

It was frustrating that I had absolutely no idea. And no time to even ponder it.

A tremor ran through the cottage’s external walls as the old building reacted to whatever order Cynwrig had given it, then stilled. But an odd sense of doom now hung in the air. It was almost as if death strode toward us, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it was ours, our would-be captors’, or that of the cottage itself.

I threw the pack over my shoulders, then unlatched the rear window and slid the bottom sash up, using just enough of my connection to the wood to ensure it made no sound. The wind blew the curtains back with greater force, but it was doubtful the men standing in the trees beyond the cottage’s fence line would see the movement, thanks to the ferocity of the storm and the close presence of the old stone shed.

But the men at the front were readying to come in. We had, at best, a minute or so.

I climbed through the window, then turned and helped pull Tia through. Cynwrig climbed out, slid the window back down, then quickly brushed his fingers across the glass to lock the metal latch. Whether it would give us enough time to get away was something we’d soon discover.

He took Vincentia from me and murmured, “This way.”

The full force of the storm hit the minute we came out from behind the shed. The rain pummeled our bodies and soaked us to the skin in an instant.

We climbed over the half wall separating Vincentia’s cottage from the next and padded down its length, keeping close to the shadows haunting the rear walls. Thankfully, there was no lightning in the area despite the fierceness of the storm. One flash might well have ended any hope of escape, because the men who’d been in the trees were now moving into the backyard.